Vigilance and Vibes
by Partyandbullshit1
Summary: Out of weed and desperate to smoke, Tai, Matt, and Davis head to the Digital World to search for its finest herb. They soon find that their pursuit will test their friendship and challenge them in ways they never expected.
1. Chapter 1

"Matt, you bitch, open the fucking door!"

I'm standing outside my best friend's house with a package of grape blunt wraps clutched in my palm. Agumon is positioned at my side, a claw pressed against his mouth. He absolutely hates it when I bring him over to Matt's to get high. Before Agumon can express his disapproval, Matt opens the door.

"Hey Tai," he greets. His blonde hair is damp from dragging a wet comb through it. Every day he attempts to tame his hair, but not even a combination of water and gel seems to get his strands to stay down. Matt's eyes, normally bright and blue, are glazed and pink. He's started without me.

I enter Matt's house with Agumon trailing behind me. Without saying a word, he disappears in the basement to hang out with Gabumon, who also hates the fact that Matt and I toke. Our two digimon partners just can't accept that we're no longer the innocent kids we used to be. When I told Agumon I lost my virginity to Sora at Mimi's sweet sixteen, he refused to talk to me for the remainder of the weekend. At least he's less hard on me than Gabumon, who hid Matt's wallet to try to prevent him from buying cigarettes. And by hid his wallet, I mean ate it.

"I already took some rips from my bong," Matt announces as we open the door to his bedroom.

I shrug. Bongs aren't my thing anyway. I sit down on the couch Matt has shoved against the corner of his room. While it's covered in Gabumon's fur, I know it's the cleanest thing I can sit on. I kick off my sneakers, prop my legs up on the small table in front of me, then peel the plastic off of the blunt wraps and begin licking away at one. Matt throws himself onto the cushion beside me, simultaneously handing me a mason jar containing a nugget of weed. I go to work, rolling my wrap delicately between my fingers. Matt watches eagerly as I finish it, then raise my lighter to its end.

I exhale before taking a hit. The smoke is thick and harsh as it settles into my lungs. I hold my breath for as long as I can, then let the smoke curl out of my mouth. It keeps coming and I realize I underestimated how big of a hit I took. A second later, I sputter out a series of coughs. My chest aches, and for a second I think I might puke, but the coughing eases. My body slowly starts to feel heavy. Everything seems sharper, brighter even. My cheeks dimple and my lips part. I lick them, capturing a slight taste of the grape-flavored blunt wrap on my tongue. I smile, then take another hit. This time the smoke hits smooth and I don't cough.

"I'm so fucking _baked_," I laugh. I'm the biggest lightweight of all our friends. I took one hit from a bowl last month at Matt's birthday party last year couldn't stand for ten minutes (granted, it was the first time I ever smoked). A few of Matt's band mates called me "One-Hit-Wonder" for the rest of the night. I only endured their ridicule for about an hour. After that, they were so shitfaced they could barely remember my name.

I lean over to pass the blunt back to Matt. I knock my elbow against the corner of the table and am met with a sharp crack.

"Aw, shit!" I snap.

The blunt falls from my fingers and lands on Matt's lap.

"_Fuck!_" he shouts, brushing it off of his thighs. He frantically swipes at the area, clawing at the ashes collected on his skin. The blunt falls to the ground. Due to too many accidental fires from Agumon, I am quick to react. Instinctively, I raise my shoe above the embers, then grind the lit blunt into the carpet. It only takes an instant for me to come to terms with what I've done.

"Dude, what the _fuck?"_ Matt yells. He neglects the burn on his thigh and throws himself to the floor. He picks up the tattered blunt, staring at its ragged remains with bloodshot eyes.

"Seriously, Tai?" he scolds. "That was my last gram. Ugh. Goddammit."

"Chill out, we're already high," I comfort.

"_You're_ high. Fucking lightweight. I don't feel anything," Matt growls.

"I'm sorry, Matt."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You owe me."

"I'll pay the next time we pick up. "

"You better. I swear, you always do shit like-Oh shit, Tai, your arm!"

I glance down at my elbow. An egg-sized purple lump has appeared at the hinge of my tricep and forearm. A growing dot of blood marks the center of the swollen bruise.

"We should get some ice on that," Matt suggests. He pinches the flakes of weed off the carpet and plunges them into the pocket of his shorts. He stands up and offers me a hand. With my good arm, I reach forward, grab it, and raise myself from the couch lethargically.

"Good idea," I agree.

We shuffle across the piles of clothes thrown on the floor. Matt's room is filthy. Every surface is littered in something: plates caked in crumbs, guitar picks, empty Marlboro boxes, and bottle caps. I have the urge to return to the couch to get my shoes, but I don't bother. The grime, while unsettling, isn't dangerous...at least to my knowledge. There _was_ that time when I found a used condom on the corner of Matt's dresser. I'm pretty sure he's fucking Sora now. I try to pretend like it doesn't bother me, but I can't help feeling jealous that she prefers him over me, especially in bed.

Matt arrives in the kitchen before I do. He opens the fridge and tosses me a lambchop swaddled in plastic wrap. I apply it to my swollen elbow and look up at him.

"Should we hit up Joe?" I ask him.

Joe began dealing when he transferred to a medical magnet school last fall once he found that the stressful environment drove most of his peers to hit either blunts or bottles on the weekends. He claimed he wasn't in it for the money and was only doing it because he believed selling others pot was no different than acting as a pharmacist. He actually cited the Hippocratic Oath and said that dealing was the right ethical thing to do in order to help others. Most of our friends called bullshit, but I believe Joe has nothing but honorable intentions. Plus, I'm not one to complain, considering the weed he sells us is _incredible_.

"Joe's at that scholar program this week, remember?" Matt says.

Fuck. I forgot. We really are out of weed. Joe is our only dependable source.

"You don't know anyone that's good right now?" I ask, growing worried. I shift the lambchop on my arm to assess my wound. The bruise is growing darker. This _sucks_.

"Nah," Matt pouts.

"What about Davis?" I ask. I'm pretty uncomfortable approaching Davis considering he's dating my little sister, but what choice to I have? That kid's impulsivity has lead him to trying a vast array of drugs, so he's bound to have an eighth lying around somewhere.

"Good idea. Although he might just have molly instead," Matt comments.

Whatever. I'm desperate. To Davis's it is.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Matt, Gabumon, Agumon, and I get to Davis's, my elbow is throbbing. I've come down from my short-lived high and I'm extremely cranky. Matt is worse. Gabumon apparently found his secret stash of cigarettes in the basement and flushed them down the toilet while we were rolling the blunt. Matt is a border-line chain smoker. It will only take one more major stressor for him to become completely addicted. When he lost the battle of the bands in December, he binged on Doritos, cigarettes, and liquor for a week. Writing music helps him, but he still needs a drag every hour or so to be able to tolerate the daily bullshit we encounter.

I ring Davis's doorbell and am disgusted to hear Kari giggling. Davis shouts to her, though I can't discern his words. My worst fears are confirmed when Davis swings open the door with nothing but a pair of plaid boxers between me and his obvious hard-on. Despite his scrawny build, Davis is _hung_. One time I walked in on a Skype session between him and Kari and saw much more than I bargained for. Lucky bastard.

"Hey bros, what's up?" he says, grinning.

"Fuck it, nevermind," I growl. Maybe I'm not that desperate after all.

"Do you have any bud?" Matt asks while giving me a momentary glare.

Both Agumon and Gabumon grumble. We may have forgotten to tell them that we were going to Davis's to pick up.

"Oh, shut up," I snarl at the two of them. I turn my attention back to Davis. "Is my sister in there?"

The twinkle in Davis's eyes tells me more than I need to know. He smiles, nods, and invites the four of us inside. Gatomon is curled up on the top of the TV, while Veemon is sprawled across the couch. Neither of them are awake.

"Davis? Who's there?" Kari inquires from Davis's bedroom.

"Tai and Matt!" Davis hollers.

Gatomon opens an eye to inspect us and closes it upon seeing familar faces. Veemon snores loudly. Neither one really gets involved in their partners' lives. I wish Agumon were more like them sometimes.

After a minute, Kari stumbles out of Davis's room wearing his soccer jersey and a pair of boxers. She blushes and smoothes down her hair.

"Hey, Tai," she says, embarrassed.

"Hey, Kari," I reply, trying to ignore the fact that just minutes ago my baby sister was being fucked by my protege.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Getting a gram," I answer her.

"What?" Davis says. "I don't have any, dudes."

"We asked you if you had any a minute ago. We thought that's why you let us in." Matt says impatiently.

"Sorry, man, I guess I was distracted. I just thought you wanted to spend time with me!" Davis replies, beaming. He winks at Kari, and I get an image of what he was distracted by. My little sister and I share the same brown hair and tan skin, but she gets far more attention than I ever did at her age. I have to admit that she's beautiful.

"Alright, well, I guess we'll head out then," I say, turning around to gather Agumon and Gabumon, who are sitting on the couch silently next to Veemon.

"Aw, come on, Tai, stay and drink with us!"

"Drink with you? It's only noon. And Kari, you shouldn't be drinking anyway. You're fifteen."

Kari looks at her feet, ashamed. It's hard for me to accept that she's developing the same bad habits I had at fifteen. I guess I can understand where Agumon's concern for me is coming from. I feel the same protectiveness over my sister. I'm a hypocrite, I know.

"It'll be fun!" Davis chimes, grabbing my elbow.

"Ah!" I cry as I jerk it away from him, cradling it against my body. I am not prepared for an afternoon with Davis. I'm not high, Agumon is upset with me, and I probably fractured my arm.

Oh well. Fuck it. I'm getting drunk.

Five shots of of Pink Lemonade Burnetts later (Davis's choice), I find that my mood has improved. Kari, wishing to avoid further awkwardness, returned home. Davis was begging her to stay, but her desire to maintain a good reputation took priority over his pleading. Thank God. I don't think I could have looked her in the eye if she stayed.

"Dude, I'm in love with your sister," Davis announces as he passes me the bottle. I take a swig and stare at him.

"Don't say that," I order before handing the bottle to Matt. He raises his hand, refusing. He's managed to find a guitar in Davis's father's room and cannot resist a good jam session. Matt is drawn to music the same way Davis and I are drawn to a soccer field.

"I'm seriously in love with Kari," Davis continues. I don't really have a problem with him. His enthusiasm transcends my own, and he is more impulsive than I ever was during my time in the digital world. I suppose I admire him. I just don't appreciate the potential he has to break Kari's heart.

"Davis, can I have more?" Veemon asks, nudging Davis with a shot glass. For whatever reason, Davis lets Veemon drink. The vodka has all the same effects on him that it does on Davis, although it renders Veemon unable to digivolve. None of us worry, considering it's been a few years since we've faced any kind of battle. I miss the thrill of fighting in the digital world. Sometimes I attribute my substance use to the fact that I simply have more time on my hands and need to fill my days with _something_. I tore my ACL last fall and haven't been able to play soccer since. I don't know what Davis's excuse is. I guess he's just wild.

Matt shakes his head as Davis refills Veemon's glass. As much as he loves tobacco, weed, and whiskey, he would never think of partaking in any of his habits with Gabumon. Not that Gabumon would accept his offers anyway.

"So you're absolutely sure you don't have any weed?" I ask Davis.

"Nah, bro. I do have some molly though."

Matt catches my eye and we both smile. Typical.

"We just need bud," Matt says.

"Well...I know where we can get some," Davis remarks. I perk up.

"Where?" I ask.

"The Digiworld. That's where Joe gets what he sells."

"Bullshit!"

"I swear."

I laugh. I should have known Joe wasn't kidding when he insisted his stuff was "out of this world".

"How does he get to the Digiworld without a D3?" I inquire.

"He uses Cody's."

Matt stops strumming.

"Cody's involved? He's just a kid!"

"Yeah, it's fucked up, but we're all just kids," Davis states.

He has a point. We're all just a bunch of fucked up kids who strayed from virtue after we no longer had to fight for our lives.

"So are we going or what?" I ask.

"Duh, dudes!" Davis shouts. As soon as he closes his mouth, Veemon falls to the floor and retches. The Burnetts tumbles out of his mouth and onto the carpet. He's had at least eight shots.

"I can't go, Davis," Veemon croaks.

"I'm not going either, Tai," Agumon says, inching away from the pile of vomit threatening to hit his feet.

"Neither am I, Matt," Gabumon adds while rubbing Veemon's back. "That is, unless you feel you would be in danger."

"We'll be fine," Matt reassures him. "Things have been pretty peaceful in the digital world lately

"So it's settled then. We're going?" I ask.

"Yes," says Matt.

"Hell yes," says Davis.

"Alright!" I yell. "Let's get digi-stoned!"


End file.
